“We’rehaving a baby.”
Ilooked at her. She squeezed my hand and I looked into eyes that seemed brown inthe dark even though they are blue. They were open wide and I could see areflection of the TV screen in each iris. She was doing that smile where sheshows all her teeth. When I didn’t say anything, her smile got smaller. Herface diminished.
“We’rehaving a baby, David. I’m three weeks along.” She raised her hand and picked atthe dry skin on her lip. I’d seen her do this many times.
“Haveyou taken a test?”
Herbrow furrowed. “Yes, of course. You were away filming and I couldn’t wait.”
Isat and looked at her and tried to re-arrange my face into something that wasappropriate. Her eyes were searching my face and I couldn’t quite keep up withthem, make it right.
“Aren’tyou happy?” she said. I almost looked around to see if she was talking to me.
“Youhave to get rid of it,” I said.
Shelooked at me in silence. It may have been seconds, it may have been minutes, buttime seemed to stretch and slow. I noticed an itch behind my knee. When timesped up again she began to sob, dry, heaving gulps that didn’t make a sound.She didn’t look away or close her eyes. Her gaze didn’t move. I sat there withher limp hand in mine and wished I was somewhere else.
* * *
Wekill the lights in the Cape as the sun goes down. I film Jamie and Trent asthey stalk through the kitchen. Trent holds up an EMF reader and shouts outreadings while Jamie explains to the audience: “Some people believeelectromagnetic fields are evidence of spirits. Ghosts use this energy tomanifest. We could be in the presence of the supernatural.” More likely it’sthe refrigerator kicking out rays, but who am I to say? Next Trent pulls out adigital sound recorder to capture EVPs. We’ll review them later and see if wecan get the white noise to say “Get Out!” but for now we wander into thehallway, asking questions into thin air. I found a talking doll upstairs that’sgoing to go off on its own, and later we’ll walk up and down the stairs for thecamera’s microphone to pick up. Jamie turns and gives me a wholesome grin; Iwish someone would tell him that the infra-red doesn’t pick up tan.
Offcamera, Bob is talking to the housewife, “Of course we believe that this houseis haunted. It’s not just for the TV. Spirits don’t work on a schedule, I’mafraid, but we do. It’s just to help it along. I really hope that we do catchsome real activity and then we won’t need all this.” He smiles at hercrestfallen face. It occurs to me that I don’t even know if Bob believes in theparanormal. I know about his failed marriage, his problems with his weight andthe fact that he’s borderline diabetic yet I don’t know his opinions on thevery thing we work together on.
Iwant to tell him about Jackie but I know he’ll be disappointed in me. I canjust imagine the look in his eyes when I tell him that my wife is pregnant andI’m making her get rid of the baby.
Wemove to the living room. Trent and Jamie try to make contact with the ghost ofthe soldier. We don’t mix it up much on this show. There’s a formula we stickto. It’s a formula that works, though—for the ratings, rather than findingactual ghosts. Jamie asks: “Is there anyone there? Give us a sign. Show us yourpresence,” and nothing happens. They make a big deal on this show about itbeing dark but what they don’t mention is that I’m in the dark, too, andwalking backwards; I have the torn up ankles to prove it. What I see is thelittle square on the viewing screen in front of me as I stumble backwards intothe unknown.
Wereturn to the kitchen. We debated having some plates fly around but in the enddecided to go for the Civil War angle. It’s a popular one in New England. Bobbegins to go upstairs with his boots on to do the heavy footsteps. We jokeabout him being the heaviest and he laughs. I wonder if he ever regrets nothaving kids. Maybe his wife would have stayed if they had. Once we get thefootsteps wrapped up I go into the attic to check the camera.
* * *
AfterJackie had finished crying we went to bed. I stared at the ceiling while shelay with her back to me. We didn’t talk. What could we say? I stayed awake fora long time, and it wasn’t just the usual insomnia. I could tell by herbreathing that she wasn’t asleep either. She lay very still. I could hear hergulping and snuffling. I reached out to touch her but stopped before my handconnected with her skin.
Yearsago she had said things like, “When we have kids.” That had changed to, “if wehave kids” and then it had stopped. I assumed the matter had been dropped, thatshe was thinking along the same lines as me. I thought about the madness of mebeing a father, of something swimming around in Jackie that we had made. Howcould I have created that spark of life without some sort of sign? I wonderedif the thing was a person yet, if it had a soul. Where does its soul go if weget rid of it? If Jackie doesn’t have this kid will I be making a ghost?
Thenext morning, she wouldn’t talk to me, wouldn’t look at me but once I’d beenaway to work and come home again, she thawed. We talked, awkwardly, aboutnothing important. Later, she showed me the appointment letter. I nodded andtold her I’d be away filming.
* * *
Despitethe mustiness, I like hanging out in attics. Give me
